


Cold

by selfinduced



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, is it still a sugar daddy au if no one's getting any, sexually frustrated N'Jadaka, shuri is staying out of this, t'challa has a lot of willpower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 20:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19092280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfinduced/pseuds/selfinduced
Summary: T'Challa is Shuri's diplomat (secretly a monarch) brother, and the bane of her grad student TA Erik's existence. The thing is, Erik's never had a family, and these Wakandans have the same type of name as the one his father gave him, which is probably what draws him in, and it's getting out of hand. It's really unfair that the man is hot af and richer than God, and he seems to care about Erik but never actually touches him.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [What no Pictures?! who promised to draw me a thing for this. eventually.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=What+no+Pictures%3F%21+who+promised+to+draw+me+a+thing+for+this.+eventually.), [whatnopictures](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatnopictures/gifts).



> T'Challa is posing as Shuri's very rich big diplomat big brother. Shuri is a genius "foreign" student at MIT. Erik N'Jadaka Stevens is her grad student TA (and friend, although he prefers the term mentor).

He knows he should not text, should not encourage the little crush N'Jadaka seems to have developed, but the first thing he does after making sure Shuri is nowhere near the little fire that started in one of the dorms is open up the last text N'Jadaka sent.

It's a link to an article about mass incarceration, and some eye emojis that he is not sure about the meaning of. T'Challa hovers over the keypad of the unfamiliar American phone, when a green "N'Jadaka is typing..." sign pops up under it. Convenient.

 

_You up?_

T'Challa ignores the little jump in his chest and types back: _Are you alright? Shuri said there was a fire but she will be up late on her latest project and not go back to her domitory until after it is cleared._

_just a kitchen fire happens allatime nbd_

_I see._ T'Challa sends back, fingers indecisive as he types and erases the next few words: _I am relieved_ \--no, _Come over and stay_ \-- no, definitely not, _Do you have somewhere to sleep?_ even worse.

 

But another message comes in: _just annoying that some idiot wanted to use the dorm kitchen at 2am tho now we all gotta wait til it's cleared to go back in_  

T'Challa pictures him shivering in the quad in his MIT hoodie in the December night and wants to drag him inside and wrap him up--an urge he shoves away, though he types, _I am relieved to know you are safe. I would be happy to come get you if you are willing to stay in the guest room._

 

The private elevator chimes, indicating Shuri's entry code.

 

"Yeah, about that," the doors open to reveal N'Jadaka, backpack slung over one shoulder, dreads dripping down his forehead and sweatpants soaked in snow and slush "It was cold outside so I started walking."

T'Challa nods with relief, letting out a breath he had not known he was holding, "And here you are."

 

N'Jadaka--the _boy_ , T'Challa reminds himself--shrugs one shoulder, collarbone bare where the zipper on his hoodie is slipping down to reveal he has nothing on underneath. "Not really how I imagined my first night here but--"

 

"You must be freezing," T'Challa cuts him off hurriedly before the boy says anything he has to pretend not to hear, taking off his own robe to wrap it around him.

N'Jadaka drops his bag and unzips the sweatshirt, dropping it too. T'Challa focuses determinedly on his face and not his naked torso as he reaches around him with the robe, pulling it closed, having somehow pulled N'Jadaka close, face startlingly near, bottom lip bitten in and his eyes--T'Challa's breath hitches at the look in those eyes, bright, intense, giving away everything he probably thinks he's hiding.

 

"Better?" He says to break the spell, but his voice comes out rough and low and if anything, N'Jadaka sways closer. He can feel the pull of the boy's want, the desire to take the one more small step to be in T'Challa's arms. And he wants it too, wants to open his arms, can barely stand to not haul him in closer, warm him up, keep him safe--and there it is. He's barely a few years older than Shuri, someone to be protected, not--

 

T'Challa takes in a deep breath and steps back, squaring his shoulders against the task of making sure the boy feels warm and welcomed, but not misled.

 

-

 

He does not sleep. But the herb's powers ensure he barely feels the lack of rest. He spends the rest of the night in the kitchen, trying to remember every single comfort dish Shuri has taken to here in America and some from back home. By the time a sleepy eyed N'Jadaka appears at the breakfast bar, brazen in nothing but his shorts and T'Challa's robe hanging off his shoulders, though he does pull it closed around himself when T'Challa looks up, nearly every surface around the kitchen is covered in food. The boy looks back and forth between the omelets and T'Challa's face as if he can't decide where to direct his hunger.

 

"Sleep well?" He knows exactly how well the boy slept--hearing the slowing of his breath surprisingly quick as soon as he got into bed, the way it sped up around an hour ago, hitching as his heart beat faster and faster, the soft little moans he didn't completely hold in--T'Challa's powers are a blessing and a curse. He'd burnt an entire batch of french toast and had had to start over at the way N'Jadaka had whispered " _T'Challa,_ " at the end, relieved when the sound of the shower finally came on. 

 

N'Jadaka seems to have decided on T'Challa's face over the waffles for the moment, mouth soft and locs falling across his forehead as he tilted his cheek into one hand "You're unreal, you know that?" 

 

He waves a hand at the food and pushes over plates and silverware before tearing himself a piece of chapati off his own plate. "I was not sure what you would like to eat."

**Author's Note:**

> Look, if I waited to finish all my WiPs, we would never get anywhere, so this is just going to be a series of one-shots in the same universe, because YOLO.


End file.
